


Therapy

by Twistedhellion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Doubt, M/M, OC, Therapy, soft angst, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 17:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17882123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twistedhellion/pseuds/Twistedhellion
Summary: Trevor visits his therapist and ponders his school and his best friend. This story lacks a bit of context, so sorry if confusing to read.





	Therapy

“Mr. Harper?”

His eyes flickered dutifully up from the dull, worn out floor mat to meet the silvery eyes of Dr. Hanson, shining with some peculiar fondness and childlike curiosity. His reading classes caught the sunlight as he raised his head from his notebook. His mouth was set on a strict line as his eyes narrowed.

“How are things in school?”

Trevor realized this was the second time he had voiced the question, and he lowered his head again. The silence was filled with the faint, anxious drumming of his foot, to which neither paid attention.

“It’s alright.” He answered. Daring not to look up from the carpet again. He played with his earlobe as he leaned on his palms, elbows resting on his knees.

Dr. Hanson nodded. He marked swiftly something on his notebook. Trevor didn’t try bother interpreting what.

“Have you been fighting with your classmates again?”

Trevor was sure he knew the answer already, that was the reason he was here. He recalled the broken nose, the warm blood smearing down onto his chin all the way to stain his white shirt and gray pullover. His mouth had been filled with the taste of iron and his hands clutched around his wand. 

He licked his lips only to find his mouth bloodless. Dr. Hanson was still patiently waiting for him to answer.

“Yes.” He simply said, hastily.

“Why is that?” He countered with a raspy voice.

“Because everyone in my fucking house piss me off.” Trevor said with pointed tone, briefly meeting his steady eyes. He raised his leg over the other one to stop the drumming. The habit made him anxious, yet he seemed to do that a lot lately.

“What did they do?”

“I don’t know. Nothing particular. I just hate them.”

His doctor seemed to think for a moment, rereading the notes he had written and quickly erasing something, probably a small typo. Then, he sat a little straighter and sighed. “Is Valerie Crutchley still causing problems?”

Valerie Crutchley. Trevor tamed the sneer that almost rose onto his face. Fucking Cruthcley, he thought bitterly as he recalled the pressuring pain on his throat, Strangulo!, as he remembered Valerie yelling. He felt cold shivers run down onto his spine as he remembered the feeling of cold stone floor against his knees and palms, iron still present in his mouth as he coughed and struggled for air.

Trevor swallowed and massaged his throat with a stiff palm. He simply shook his head lightly, but didn’t elaborate further. Dr. Hanson seemed curious, but fortunately didn’t voice his thoughts.

It had turned out the curse was more effective than neither of them had expected. And paired with the Apple wood and dragon heartstring, along with Valerie’s present rage and recklessness, had Trevor experienced the curse in its strongest. The lack of air and pressuring pain was excruciating, and Trevor remember repeating the mere thought that this was it, this was the end, as he stared watery eyed at the small puddle of dark blood he had coughed up. He had not seen Valerie Crutchley for the rest of the year.

“Okay.” He heard Hanson say after a moment. “What about your friends then. Have you met anyone new?”

“I…” Trevor thought of his wording. “Made, ah – friend. Er, I knew him before, I just… got to know him better, I guess.” He stammered, massaging his hands to help him shake away the unpleasant memories.

“Oh, Morgan?” He asked from his paper, scribbling something down but faltering as Trevor shook his head.

“No, Even. Dwight.” Trevor studied the ornamented floor mat again. His mind flooded with more memories, this time most of them filled with yellow beanies and ruffled blond hair peeking under them.

His thoughts lingered on Even for a moment without realizing. He recalled the time Even had yelled for a professor or a prefect to help him escort him to madam Pomfrey as he tried his best to counter the curse. His thoughts turned to the bright smile that peeked behind his weary potions book, and the ever so wide grin he wore when Trevor had done his herbology homework free of charge. The laugh that echoed through the hallways as they skipped arithmancy together...

“I remember him. You met him on the fourth year, yes?” Dr. Hanson asked, his forehead wrinkly as he raised his eyebrows.

Trevor collected himself from the sudden drifting thoughts, little unsure of how to feel about the flush on his cheeks. “Third year, actually. But I guess I really got to know him on fourth, so...” He seemed to dismiss his train of thought by slightly shaking his head. Dr. Hanson noted and asked another question.

“Is he still appearing in your dreams?”

Trevor lowered his head onto him palms. With his thumbs, he massaged his temple to calm down the tornado of thoughts that was swirling madly inside of his head. He hated this feeling, the feeling were you were not in control of your own emotions. It was a sign of weakness, Trevor was sure. He breathed out and rubbed his eyes.

“Yes.” He said simply without raising his head. He had started drumming his leg again. He did nothing about it, however.

“What kinds of dreams do you see?” Hanson pressured with that same, dull expression and tone.

Trevor thought for a minute.

“There was this one, where… I um- I’m in the tower, Hogwarts tower, and I’m looking at the stars on the sky, and… but there are no stars, the sky is completely empty, it feels… hollow somehow. And Even is there too, and he seems kind of hollow too, but he’s smiling,” Trevor shifted his sitting position again, a moment to allow him to recall the dream further. “He’s smiling, but it feels hollow. He tells me something about the stars and how they’re beautiful and aligned or something. Sometimes he says something different, something about the next year and all the opportunities, or whatever. And sometimes he...” Trevor trailed off and hesitated.

“Go on,” the doctor urged him.

“sometimes he says that he... I don’t know. It’s weird.”

 _I love you_ , the memory of Even’s empty words echoed in his mind. He remembers his freckled palm against his cheek, the ghostly lingering thought of their lips meeting…

They both fell silent. The padding of Trevor’s foot was accompanied by the faint scribbling of the pencil and parchment as Hanson made notes without a word further.

“Sometimes dreams can be the indications of either the past or the future, can’t they, Mr. Harper?” Dr. Hanson spoke absent-minded after a moment.

And while they sat, in the dim and bland therapy room, sun peeking from the nearly shut blinds and illuminating the school reports and hand written letters signed by Even D., Trevor thought to himself that maybe this wouldn’t be their last meeting.


End file.
